Every step toward the wolf den increased the tension. The air smelled of wet earth and iron, alive with the quiet whispers of predator's unseen. Karl felt it in his bones —a primal warning, a reminder that danger could strike at any moment. Every breath, every movement, had to be precise; failure was not an option.
The forest thickened as Karl's hunting party pressed deeper into the Wilderness, the air growing heavy with the scent of damp earth and pine. Twisted roots clawed at their boots, and low-hanging branches whispered against their armor like warnings. Karl led with his spear gripped firmly, Thorn padding silently at his side, vines twitching in anticipation.
Ember soared overhead, her emerald feathers cutting through the canopy's dappled light, her Storm Sense probing for the faintest ripple in the air.
Behind them, the team moved in disciplined formation:
The mile to the wolf den felt endless, each step heightening the tension. Ember's sharp chirps guided them, confirming the pack's location: a rocky hollow nestled in a cluster of ancient boulders, hidden by overgrown ferns and shadowed by towering oaks. The disturbances in the air grew stronger—pawed earth, scattered leaves, the faint musk of fur and blood.
As they neared the den's edge, Karl raised a fist, signaling a halt. The group crouched in the underbrush, hearts pounding in unison. Through the foliage, they glimpsed the wolves: seven shadows moving with predatory grace.
The two Bronze II alphas—scarred and massive, their amber eyes burning with cunning—paced at the center, while the five Bronze I subordinates prowled the perimeter, ears twitching at every rustle.
Karl leaned close, his voice no louder than the rustle of leaves. "Stay calm. Stick to the plan. Ember, Veyra—you strike first. Aim for the Bronze I wolves. If we can kill or even wound two, the rest will be easier."
Ember's feathers shivered with quiet energy. She spread her wings slowly, every movement careful, muffling the sound of air as she lifted into the sky. Higher and higher she went, vanishing into the shadows of the clouds above.
Veyra crouched low behind a mossy boulder. Her bow was already in her hands, an arrow resting lightly on the string. She did not move, only her eyes fixed on a lone wolf prowling near the edge of the pack, its nose twitching as it sniffed the air.
Lysa placed her hand gently on Thorn's rough, vine-covered hide. The beast shifted, roots tightening against the soil as her quiet command flowed through him—wait, watch, be ready.
The air grew heavy, every heartbeat stretching longer than the last. The forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the first strike.
The attack began with a whisper of wind. Ember dove, her Wind Slash erupting in a razor-sharp gust that sliced across a Bronze I wolf's throat. It collapsed in a spray of blood, gurgling its last breath.
Simultaneously, Veyra's arrow whistled through the ferns, embedding deep into another's flank. The wolf yelped, staggering, its movements slowed by the embedded shaft.
The pack exploded into chaos. Howls ripped through the air as the remaining wolves spun, fangs bared, eyes locking onto the intruders. The two Bronze II alphas snarled, charging forward with earth-shaking bounds, while the three uninjured Bronze I's fanned out, flanking with lethal precision.
"Grok, Dren—take the left alpha!" Karl barked. "Drael, the right! Tarran, support them!"
Grok and Dren met the first Bronze II head-on, Grok's shield absorbing a brutal claw swipe that sent sparks flying, while Dren's mace cracked against its ribs with a resounding thud. The wolf recoiled but pressed on, jaws snapping inches from Grok's arm.
Drael braced alone against the second alpha, his massive shield planted like a wall. The wolf slammed into it with bone-jarring force, but Drael held, grunting as he shoved back, forcing the beast off-balance.
Tarran darted in, his spear thrusting into the alpha's exposed side, drawing a spray of blood. The wolf howled, twisting to snap at him, but Tarran rolled away, spear ready for another strike.
"Thorn, Renn—Ember, with me!" Karl's voice cut sharp through the din. He pointed his spear at the four remaining Bronze I wolves.
"let's end them before they regroup!"
The trio surged forward with Karl in perfect rhythm. Thorn's vines shot out and grabbed one wolf, slamming it down. Ember swooped from above, claws glowing with wind, and cut its throat in one strike.
Karl fought another wolf head-on. It jumped at him, teeth snapping. He blocked with his spear, twisted low, and stabbed up into its side. The wolf howled and fell, poison spreading through its body.
Renn faced the wounded wolf that Veyra had hit earlier. It limped, but still fought hard, snapping at his legs as he stabbed back again and again.
The last wolf darted wide, circling fast. Its eyes locked on Liora at the back. With a savage growl, it bolted toward her.
"Veyra!" Karl shouted.
From the shadows, Veyra's arrow flew, striking the wolf in the ribs. The beast stumbled, giving Thorn time to lash its vines around its neck and choke it down.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed brighter.
Three wolves had already fallen. Another limped, barely able to stand.
Karl's chest tightened—not with fear, but with hope. We can win this, he thought, the words flickering in his mind like a spark in the dark.
Then—
A deep, rumbling roar rolled out from the cave, so loud it rattled the stones under their feet. The boulders trembled, dust spilling down their sides.
From the darkness, a massive shadow surged forward. Step by step, it emerged—scarred fur bristling, fangs bared, eyes burning like fire.
This was no Bronze I, no Bronze II.
It was a Bronze III Dire Wolf—the true alpha.